Gainsbourg et Caetera

Philips; 2006

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In the U.S., Serge Gainsbourg’s reggae phase is rarely mentioned by anyone but rarities sluts and insatiable Francophones. Serge fans can’t figure out why the maestro abandoned his memorable melodies. Dub experts figure him for a lazy colonialist, abusing Jamaican rhythms for the sake of his lewd Parisian poetry. Everyone else regards it as an uninspired oddity. But the two most important recordings from this period, Aux Armes et Caetera and Mauvaises Nouvelles des Étoiles, arrived at a critical juncture for the French pop emblem. By 1979, Gainsbourg was celebrating his first No. 1 album at home, organizing a series of celebrated concerts, and orchestrating a national scandal by bastardizing the Marseillaise with the assistance of Rita Marley. Indeed, it was a last triumphant moment before his Elvis-caliber decline as a Whitney Houston-baiting Monsieur Hyde.

The atrociously titled Gainsbourg…et Caetera (subtitled as Enregistrement public au Théâtre Le Palace) captures that enthusiasm with excessive glee: Two discs of tarry reggae, interview rigmarole, and endless applause recorded on New Years’ Eve 1979, in Northern Paris. The recordings, culled from three major performances, feature Sly & Robbie, the Revolutionaries, and the great Ansel Collins on keyboards and organ. Earlier editions suffered from mixing gaffes and butchered track lists, though the current release errors on the side of completists who demand multiple versions and extended banter. The songs are mostly from Aux Armes, a dense set of bubbling dread and Upsetters-quoting dub. In search of an ever-elusive authenticity, the back cover contains an unpersuasive motto: “Strictly roots. A écouter fort.”

The album is less about Gainsbourg’s insouciance than Collins’ spectral keyboards and Sticky Thompson’s meticulous percussion. For sheer consistency, they’re an unbeatable duo, confidently navigating through Serge’s snarls. Conversely, the band needs the singer’s unpredictable ejaculations to avoid tedium. The bizarre interaction produces an irresistible-- and inevitably comedic-- blend of liquid riffs and tropical smut. “Relax Baby Be Cool” enacts smooth circuits of electro-bass and honeyed keyboards while Serge laconically rants about the Klan and Yul Brynner. “Marilou Reggae Dub” mixes smooth strums and jagged breaks with ample shots of fairy-dust sprinkle effects. For all the cheery Caribbean romance, there’s no lack of foreboding atmospherics. On “Daisy Temple”, narcotic chord clusters, faltering organs, and rueful back-up girls lampoon Gainsbourg’s literate lechery, and “Brigade des Stups” rolls tubes of condensed reverb around stories of war and weed.

Outside of the Aux Armes tunes, Serge attempts to replicate shards of his old repertoire. Sure, there’s some initial excitement over the prospect of a roots-reggae “Bonnie and Clyde” or “Harley Davidson,” but the vocals are listless and tired, unable to compete with the group’s spirited funk. From the vantage of a jet-setting rasta prophet, he seems unsure of how to reconcile his seductive teenage anthems with more global tastes. (The revving keyboards and rattling drums on “Harley” seem like a particularly odious ploy for novelty value.) It’s a shame since it mars an otherwise spotless set. If you have a passion for Parisian reggae, Enregistrement is easily the most complete and skillful record of Gainsbourg’s latter-day escapades, with performances that usually surpass the studio versions. Still, if the album is viewed as one small component of Serge’s entire output, most of this material attests to his ambition and élan but not his musical talent. In this particular venue, he must cede his authority to the rhythm section.